


Underwater

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Day At The Beach, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 18:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19178557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: Marti has always been a jealous person.It's something he's aware of – how could he not? The stupidest things he's ever done in his life he did because he was jealous.It's a bit of a surprise, then, to discover he doesn't mind this.





	Underwater

Marti has always been a jealous person.

It's something he's aware of – how could he not? The stupidest things he's ever done in his life he did because he was jealous.

It's a bit of a surprise, then, to discover he doesn't mind this.

They're at the beach with the guys. Luca brought Silvia, Gio brought Sofi, and Elia brought the Nintendo Switch, so they're all paired up.

It's not the first time he and Nico go to the beach near the lake house with the guys, but it's the first time it's hot enough to wear their swimsuits. It's also the first time the beach looks like a beach, not a desert, with people sunbathing, attempting a swim in the lake, and complaining loudly that the water is freezing.

Point is, people look. They look at _Nico_ , that is.

And Marti... well, Marti notices. And surprises even himself with how unbothered he is by the whole thing. And it doesn't stop there.

He sees the girls look first. He watches Silvia follow Nico's movements with her eyes, as he's taking off his shirt. He sees her eyes go wide, move quickly up and down Nico's torso, before she realises what she's doing and looks down, her cheeks colouring slightly.

Marti chances a look at Luca, who is openly staring at Nico's chest from where he's sitting on the towel next to Silvia, mouth open like a fish. Marti chuckles.

Made for each other, those two.

He catches Sofi looking too. She's a little bit subtler, but he does notice the way her eyebrows go all the way up as she's staring at Nico's back, and how she looks away quickly when Nico turns around and chucks his shirt at Marti with a grin.

From where he's sitting on his towel, Marti glances up at Gio, who looks almost frozen in the act of pulling off his own shirt, the hem still in his hands, as he looks from Sofi to Nico and back again. Marti sees him snort to himself.

Their eyes meet, Marti smirks at him, and Gio rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh. He pulls off his shirt in one quick move and chucks it at Marti too.

Even Elia looks up from under the towel fort he's built to hide the Switch from direct sunlight, an eyebrow raised at Nico.

“How many times a week do you go to the gym again?” he asks, and Nico flashes him a grin.

Two, sometimes three, Marti knows. Not the kind of routine he or any of the guys would ever put up with willingly.

“Why?” Nico counters, teasing. “Are you worried I'm going to beat you at Schiacciasette after all?”

“Please,” Elia sneers. “I'm the reigning champion.”

“That's 'cause you haven't played against me yet. Or Sofi,” Nico adds, as an afterthought. He turns to her. “You're in the school volleyball team, right?”

“I am,” she says with a smile. “But I don't know this game.”

“Oh, it's easy. It's basically volleyball but there are no teams. Come, I'll show you,” Nico takes her hand and pulls her to her feet. “Silvia? Luca? You coming too? Cool,” Nico turns to look at Marti and Gio, his smile cheeky. “You'll take care of Marti, right?” he tells Gio, mock-serious. “I'm not sure playing is good for his creaky joints.”

The joke that Marti is an old man inside is hardly new, but Marti feels compelled to show Nico the middle finger anyway. Nico giggles and ruffles Marti's hair and Marti puts on a moderately convincing show that he's annoyed by it. Gio chuckles.

“Shall we go to the bar and play cards, then?” Gio tells Marti – and Nico laughs and high-fives him before making his way to the water's edge where the girls and guys are already forming a circle. A volley ball has mysteriously appeared too.

“He's... something, yeah?” Gio tells Marti, as they both watch Nico walk away. “I mean, I knew he was fit, but I'd never really... er, _seen_ , I guess? He's always wearing those baggy- What?”

Marti bursts out laughing, and Gio turns to him, an eyebrow raised.

“Nothing. This is just... mildly surreal,” Marti says, amused.

He and Gio, talking about boys.

Last year, Marti would have had panicked at the mere thought. And even just a few months ago, right before Marti found the courage to tell Gio what he did to his relationship with Eva, he was sure he could never have this. Not after Gio knew.

But then again Gio has been surprising him for the past twelve years.

“It's surreal that I notice that Nico is fit, you mean?” Gio asks, laughing. “You're not the only one with eyes, you know.”

“Oh, I know _that_. Look.” Marti points to where their friends are playing Schiacciasette. They've already attracted a small crowd of girls and there is a lot of whispering and giggling and unsubtle pointing going on.

They are very clearly talking about Nico.

“Does it bother you?” Gio asks, frowing slightly.

“Not if it's just... that.” Marti gestures to the girls vaguely. “I mean, it's bad when they hit on him, and he tells them no, except that because he isn't rude they think they still have a chance. Guys too, I mean. But this..." Marti shrugs. "This is fine. They're just looking.”

“Fine?” Gio repeats, his lips curving slightly, the hint of a knowing smirk, and Marti can feel himself blush.

“You know what I mean.”

The truth is, Marti likes it.

He likes that people notice that Nico is good-looking, that people wonder about him, that people clearly would like a chance with him. It makes it all the more satisfying when Nico comes back to him and cuddles close – as much as they can here, which is not a lot.

But still, everybody wants Nico and Nico only wants him. It does wonders for Marti's self-esteem.

“It never was like this before, though,” Marti says, his tone wondering. He regrets it almost immediately, the implications a bit too obvious for comfort. “No, sorry, I didn't mean-”

“It's fine,” Gio shrugs. His cheeks get a little pink, but Marti appreciates that his voice doesn't waver. “It's a different thing, one reacts differently. That's all.”

“Sorry,” Marti repeats. He steals a glance at Gio and sees him watching him. They smile at each other, a bit shyly. “It's just weird. I didn't think one could stop being jealous. I thought it was like... being funny, or, I don't know, clever. You can't stop being those things.”

Gio seems to consider this for a moment.

His eyes linger on a group of guys who are walking along the water's edge. He watches one of them hand the ball back to Sofi, who had been running after it. She smiles and thanks him, before returning to the game of Schiacciasette. The guy keeps staring, as if transfixed.

Gio sighs.

“I think being jealous is, like, a consequence, though. You're jealous when you're afraid to lose the other person, or you think you've lost them already. Maybe before-” Gio interrupts himself quickly and curses under his breath. Marti would even find it funny, if it wasn't this awkward. They're still learning how to deal with this thing between them. But it's fine, none of them is going anywhere. “You're not afraid now, is the point,” Gio says decisively. “You know Nico loves _you_. That's why you're not jealous... I think.”

Marti smiles.

How was it? Surprising him for the past twelve years? Yeah.

“I hate when you make sense,” Marti says in a fake long-suffering tone, and Gio huffs a laugh.

“I always make sense. Love Wizard, remember?” he counters smugly, pointing to himself. He deliberately ignores Marti's snort. “So, about that card game...?”

“Fuck you,” Marti says as he stands up, brushing away the sand from his legs. “Race you to the water's edge?”

Gio grins.

He starts running without waiting for the countdown, but Marti wasn't born yesterday. He grabs Gio's arm as he's running to pull him back and manages to actually convince himself he's got a decent headstart for once, before Gio grabs him by the waist and they both tumble over gracelessly onto the sand.

They make it to the water's edge essentially wrestling each other, the race forgotten. As soon as he feels the water lapping at his shoulders, Marti looks up and squints, Gio's full weight on his stomach, cutting off his breath.

Marti snorts and pushes Gio off him. He's got the sun in his eyes, but he can vaguely make out a dark silhouette standing right above him, looking down. He knows it a bit too well not to start grinning like an idiot.

“Ni! How's the game going?”

“Definitely better than yours,” Nico scoffs and offers both Gio and Marti a hand to pull them to their feet. “Have you been kicked out of the bar alread- _Oh!_ ”

Marti doesn't let him finish and pushes Nico into the water, diving in right after him.

It's weird.

Marti is ready to start teasing Nico mercilessly, but the words get stuck in his throat the second he sees Nico emerge from the water, hair wet and plastered against his face, breathing hard.

It's like going back in time.

He knows Nico realises it too, he has to. It would be impossible not to.

“You thought you'd drowned me,” Nico says, his smile quiet and bright – and Marti didn't really need confirmation but he got it anyway. The words sound a lot softer this time around.

Marti looks around quickly.

Their friends are playing Schiacciasette and Gio has now joined them. No one else seems to be paying attention to the two of them.

He looks back to Nico, a question in his eyes, and Nico smiles and nods.

“One, two, _three_ ,” Nico whispers and, on cue, they both hold their breath and dive back underwater.

Marti struggles to keep his eyes open, but Nico's lips are on his almost immediately, so it doesn't even matter.

The excitement is still there, the “we're doing this, who cares”. Marti feels his heart beating faster as Nico cradles his neck and tilts his head to the side to kiss him deeper. He holds on to his shoulders and kisses him back, trying not to smile too hard not to inhale water.

It feels different, too. There is no rush. They're going to run out of air soon and they're going to have to break the kiss – but it's okay. Marti doesn't mind.

He knows for a fact there'll be other kisses. Some in just a few minutes, when they'll wrap themselves up in a towel and pretend they're being subtle as they exchange quick pecks under it, giggling like idiots.

There'll be more kisses as they're making lunch, and Nico will get distracted by Marti's lips and put sugar instead of salt in the tuna salad.

They'll kiss afterwards too, in the afternoon, as they're lazying on the hammock that is definitely not made for two people, but it hasn't broken yet, so they can pretend it is.

They're going to kiss when Nico inevitably loses at Risk and Marti tells him he's hopeless, and they're going to kiss again when Marti swears there's a scorpion on the porch handrail and Nico tells him there are no scorpions here, and where has it gone anyway? But Marti has seen it, okay? He has.

And they'll kiss under the stars tonight as they wait for a shooting star they probably won't even see. They'll kiss goodnight too, on the sofa they'll have to share because you can't always win and get the bedroom, but getting to sleep this close to Nico, arms wrapped around each other, breathing each others in, is hardly a chore.

And they're going to kiss tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and, yeah, Marti is out of breath now and they need to break apart. But it's fine. It's all fine.

Marti smiles as he and Nico resurface from under the water, panting hard, taking in each other's smiles and smiling even bigger in return.

He's not afraid anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely a fic and not - NOT! - eight headcanons in a trenchcoat.
> 
> I don't know if they play Schiacciasette in Argentina, but I needed an excuse to tell the uninitiated what Schiacciasette is. Wikipedia insists the official name is Sette si schiaccia, which I simply refuse to accept.


End file.
